


Winter Among Wolves

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bear School (The Witcher), Character Study, Cutagens | Cute Effects of Mutagens (The Witcher), Daddy Kink, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Multi, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Witchers (The Witcher), The Witcher Lore, Winter At Kaer Morhen, hibernation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: The reputation Bears cultivated for themselves was greatly exaggerated. They preferred their solitude, but that didn't mean they were cold to one another, completely unfeeling; meeting a brother on The Path led to a little snarling before fucking against a tree, both of them getting what they needed before parting ways, seldom exchanging more than a few words. Grayson went for whores on The Path. It was easier to sate his urges during the year, then accept whatever scraps of affection were given in winter, not trying too hard when he didn't have the energy. But fuck, it had been a lean year, and Grayson hadn't had enough coin for prostitutes in months, and now he was in a keep filled with horny Wolves.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s), Lambert/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 313
Collections: Notes From The Path





	Winter Among Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess I'm doing this now, who's interested in 6k of lore and 4k of fucking? Here is my character study fic for my original Witcher, Grayson, School of the Bear. He first appeared in a major way in Cabinet of Curiosities, which I did with the amazing RawrkinJD, but I don't think you'll need to read that to understand this... I hope.
> 
> There's a lot of Bear School lore in this fic (I've fallen hard for School of the Bear, yummy mountains of man, just my jam) so thank you to the lovely lore dragons on the Continent Cake Shop discord server, they helped me so much when I wanted to blend Witcher universe lore with my own (slightly softer) ideas about Witchers of the Bear School. And of course, some headcanons from Rawr that are too amazing not to weave into every story.
> 
> I don't want to be one of those people who's like "look at my super special OC, love him more," but Grayson is just a grumpy old Witcher who wants to sleep, get laid, and have a nice brush to comb his pretty hair. I dig him, and I guess a lot of other people do too, so I hope everyone enjoys what I started referring to as "Grayson Does Kaer Morhen," but turned into "Kaer Morhen Does Grayson."
> 
> (Daddy kink is only if you squint.)
> 
> (Also, this is way longer than I planned... sorry?)

“Fuck.” Grayson's lungs burned with every breath of icy air. The Blue Mountains were no different than the Amell Mountains, but Grayson was old, tired, the sleep and rest of winter already pulling at his body, trying to convince him the nearby snow drift looked like a soft place to rest his head. He should be at his own keep, rumbling a cool welcome as another brother returned for the season—so few of them now—then going back to sleep. But instead he was in the Blue Fucking Mountains on his way to Kaer Morhen, to beg shelter from the Wolves. He didn't care if the money in Kaedwen was good, he was never venturing this far north again.

He managed to get passed their traps, or whatever it was, he heard it called the Killer, but his mind was too foggy to remember, too tired to think. _Hibernate_ , his instincts screamed, _you want to sleep, regain your strength_...

Grayson could see the keep, see the fucking tilting towers that probably should've caved in on the Wolves years ago. He was almost fucking there!

Falling to his knees, the wind howled around him, snow swirling. His armor and the warm furs he had for winter kept him warm as his body started slowing down, dragging him into sleep, but it wouldn't help him survive the cold, not for much longer. He couldn't think, eyes falling closed, Grayson fell face first into a pile of snow, the sound of a horse nearby...

* * *

He was warm again when he started to wake. There was a fire crackling, low voices nearby, and he was wrapped in furs that didn't smell like the ones on his bed.

Grayson shot up, grabbing for the dagger at his belt... only to find it missing. And all of his other clothes. He twisted and growled, trying to get free from the mound of furs before he— “Ah, you're awake.” Fuck, they noticed him, his captors. Stripped of his clothes and his weapons, Grayson could only imagine what they were planning on doing with a Witcher so far from home. Maybe he could—

Three slow, steady hearts met his ears, Witcher hearts. Focusing on the room, he saw a head of bright white hair, not an old Witcher, but a young one (well, young compared to him). Geralt of Rivia, there could be no mistake. He made it to Kaer Morhen. He didn't remember how, but that didn't matter anymore, Grayson would not die on the mountain, which was a boast only a Bear Witcher could truly understand the significance of.

Geralt didn't move from his seat by the fire, golden eyes watch him. His hands were weaponless, but a Witcher was never truly without a way to defend themselves, at least, if Wolves are trained the same way as Bears. Grayson curled his lips in a growl when another Witcher sat on the end of the bed, keeping his distance. Topaz eyes looked him over, messy locks of brown obscuring them a little, probably to hide the tangle of scars down the side of his face. But what was a Witcher without facial scars? New, or soon to be dead.

“You're safe,” the Witcher said. “I'm Eskel. You're at Kaer Morhen.”

“Yes.” Grayson ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the tangles in it. It was one of his rituals as soon as he reached Haern Caduch and woke from his hibernation—brushing his hair. One of the very few luxury items Grayson actually owned was a silver brush, the handle decorated with intricate leaves. He could tell you what that brush felt like in his hand, in his hair as it swept through, taming his thick fur. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly desirous of company in the dead of winter, he asked Ivo to brush his hair, Junod stayed to watch them.

He wasn't at his best now, hair tangled, overgrown, looking like a mangy cur as he begged for shelter. “I was trying to get here. Took a contract too far north, I didn't have time to go south before the snows moved in. Arnaghad always said Wolves are good for shelter if you're truly desperate.” _Though if you can't manage on your own, might as well not return to my keep_... he always added with a growl.

“Huh,” another voice chuckled. “Arnaghad would say that, though I imagine not as a charitable assessment.” Grayson looked up to find a gray Witcher, older than even him, striding across the room. He came to a stop next to the one at the end of the bed, Eskel, experienced eyes appraising Grayson. “I thought he believed us stupid for welcoming travelers in need?”

“Sounds like a smart guy,” another Witcher grumbled from the door, black hair thinning a little at the top, but devilishly good looking. Fuck, were all Wolves handsome? Geralt of Rivia, it made sense, he had to be famous for a reason (and it wasn't his skills as a Witcher, might as well be his pretty mug) and Eskel, though he tried to hide it, ashamed of the scars that were a mark of their trade. And now this third young wolf with his dark hair and smoldering scowl; if Grayson's body wasn't frazzled from shocking out of his sleep, he might have had an unfortunate erection to conceal at the moment.

“Personally,” he continued, “I would've left you in the snow.”

“That's why you didn't get a vote,” Eskel said, lips turned down in a frown. Fresh from sleep, a little groggy but mostly together, Grayson had the overwhelming urge to kiss those lips. He squashed it down and shook himself. It was like that after he first woke, wanting to fuck everything and anything, asking his brothers to join him in a bath...

His hand picked absently at his hair, trying to shape it. The beard was a lost cause without a good brush but his hair usually listened. “How long was I hi—asleep.”

“A week,” the older Witcher said. “Refresh my memory, Bears mostly rest during the winter, correct?”

“Yes.” Grayson said, shoulders tightening, as if readying to ward off a verbal blow. “Why? What do you do?”

“Chores. Training—”

“Fucking,” the young Witcher added from the door.

The elder shook his head. “All guests at Kaer Morhen are asked to pitch in, earn their keep. I seem to remember your school being a sleepy lot, we'll try not to tax you, but if it needs to get done—”

“It'll get done,” Grayson rumbled. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to depend on the Wolves for anything, but he would lend a hand. He was no freeloader. He just had to get through this fucking winter and never have to see them again.

“Good,” the old Wolf nodded, walking out of the room, dragging the youngest with him.

“That's Vesemir,” Eskel said. “The one with the mouth is Lambert. He just woke up, which makes him extra pissy. Any injuries we missed? You seemed fine when we found you, just asleep.”

Grayson rolled his shoulders, taking stock of his body. A little stiff, but he was always like that when he woke up. His hand gravitated towards his hair again, and he frowned, longing for the small mirror he had with his gear. “Feels fine. My gear?” This was the most he'd spoken in months, years possibly, and it was taxing his already exhausted mind. He'd slept enough to satisfy his hibernation—the need to sleep, catch up on the rest he'd missed out on—but winter always made him slower, every word an effort, his mind still in a fog.

“Over there,” Geralt said, speaking for the first time. Grayson eyed the pile of his bags, armor and swords by the door; they'd been cleaned, taken care of... they didn't have to do that, and yet they did. Geralt stood up and came to a stop next to Eskel, almost leaning into each other. “I've met Bears on The Path, I know you're not as... close as we are. We'll try to give you space.” Grabbing Eskel's arm, he hauled him to his feet.

Eskel frowned, but followed Geralt. “Get dressed, take care of your needs, privy's at the end of the hall. Come down if you want, we can show you around.” Geralt yanked his arm again and they walked out, closing the door behind them. Grayson tried not to overhear, but soft whispers met his ears, “What? We should be hospitable.”

“The Bear I met looked like he wanted to eat me alive. We haven't even had a chance to catch up yet, I don't want... not yet.”

Eskel sighed. “Fine, but I won't be rude.”

There was a low chuckle and Grayson's face heated up. “You're so soft, I love it...” The voices died away as they climbed down the stairs. Grayson had to sit for a moment longer, his cock, sleeping just a minute ago, suddenly decided to wake up. He knew the stories about Wolves, pack bonding or whatever, sleeping in each other's rooms all winter, it sounded claustrophobic and a good recipe for a fight, but so far from his own home and his own kin, Grayson was...

The reputation Bears cultivated for themselves was greatly exaggerated. They preferred their solitude, but that didn't mean they were cold to one another, completely unfeeling; meeting a brother on The Path led to a little snarling before fucking against a tree, both of them getting what they needed before parting ways, seldom exchanging more than a few words. Grayson went for whores on The Path, it was true, he didn't like putting in the work of figuring out if his brothers were in good enough spirits to allow him in their beds; Junod and Ivo were better about sharing their bed, but always on their terms, Gerd had to be in the right _mood_ , usually he was good for a drink and some cards rather than a fuck, but if the urge hit him, he could be convinced. It was easier to sate his urges during the year, then accept whatever scraps of affection were given in winter, not trying too hard when he didn't have the energy. But fuck, it had been a lean year, and Grayson hadn't had enough coin for prostitutes in months, and now he was in a keep filled with horny Wolves.

Shaking himself, he got up and checked himself over—no injuries—before getting dressed. He snagged his mirror from his pack and put it in his pocket if he got a chance to try and tame his hair. First food, then a bath, if he could manage. Muscles still stiff from sleep, it took longer than usual to make his way down to the dining hall, following the smell of food.

Vesemir sat at the end of the table shelling peas. He nodded towards a tray filled with bread, meat, and cheese. “Thought you might be hungry. Didn't know when you'd wake so I had to add to dinner, it'll be late tonight.”

Grayson gave a low rumble, before remembering Wolves probably didn't know what that meant. “Thank you. I can hunt. I know you didn't plan to feed more than your pack.”

Vesemir waved the words away. “We don't usually want in winter, surprisingly. There's good hunting in the valley. I'll send you and the pups out as needed.”

Grayson sat down in front of the tray and quickly devoured the food. Vesemir sat at the other end of the table, continuing his work. He didn't feel the need to chatter, or ask questions Grayson didn't want to answer, and he was grateful, maybe a season with the Wolves wouldn't be so bad. By the time he was done with the food—enough to sate him, but not fill him up—he stood, opening his mouth to ask—

“Hot springs are down that hall, follow the stairs and the smell of mineral water,” Vesemir said. Ah yes, the famous Kaer Morhen hot springs, he'd heard tales of them. As far as Grayson knew, no living Bear had the _pleasure_ of wintering here, so he suspected the stories were greatly exaggerated. He expected one small hole filled with sulfuric water, definitely not the gleaming caves and magical pools of legend and rumor.

As soon as he reached the door and opened it, exposing the cavern inside, he saw there was no exaggeration. The light of the torches and braziers shined off the slick rocks and the pool itself, making the whole place glow; there was a laundry basket, a small chest probably for toiletries, and a stack of towels against the wall, along with a few benches with clothes draped over them. The water itself smelled of minerals carried from deep within the mountain, not an overly pleasant smell, but not too hard on the nose, it was definitely worth the heat of the water and the relaxing soak.

Grayson stepped fully inside the cavern and heard a splash. His eyes snapped over to the corner of the pool where two heads—one white, one dark brown—sprang apart, lips swollen and red from kissing. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “I don't mean to interrupt. I can come back.”

“No,” Geralt said. There was a gentle whoosh of water displacing as they moved apart, now lounging at a more appropriate distance, but their shoulders still brushed together. “A bath after you wake up is good, we don't mind sharing.”

Setting the small mirror on one of the benches for later, Grayson continued removing his clothes, tried not to listen to the soft little gasp as he pushed down his small clothes, and slid into the water. “Mmm, fuck,” he groaned as the heat started working right away. What tension remained in his muscles from probably tossing and turning in an unknown bed melted away and Grayson sank down until his whole body was under the water. He'd wet his hair in a moment, but he needed to relax, feel the last tensions of the world slipping away. It was easier at Haern Caduch, even with a dagger strapped to his back in his own home, but Kaer Morhen was where he found himself and he was going to make the best of it, even if that meant staying in his room all day, only coming down for meals, training, and whatever chores they requested of him. There were worse ways to spend a winter.

“We hibernate too,” Eskel said suddenly. Head still above the water, Grayson opened his eyes to find soft topaz looking back at him, lips parted and almost inviting. If it weren't for the White Wolf right next to him, watching them closely, Grayson might think Eskel was trying to invite some attention. “It's not true hibernation, only two or three days. So you know, you don't have to worry about us spilling your secrets, we've got the same ones.”

Wolves hibernated? That was interesting. Or maybe not, Arnaghad split from the Order of Witchers, then others splintered further, leaving the last dregs of the originals to form the School of the Wolf. As far as Grayson knew, Bears and Wolves were the closest to that original source; as Arnaghad told it, all Witchers were designed with a rest period to replace what the world had taken from them. It was difficult to get the living legend, the fucking mountain himself, to speak of the Order, but sometimes after a rough hibernation where they were restless and didn't feel right for a few days, he showed the sliver of heart he still had for his school, and only his school.

Grayson nodded. “I'm a little foggy still. Might take a few days. When do you start training?” Fuck, they probably got up at the crack of dawn too. Training at Haern Caduch started at ten o'clock, possibly noon depending on how tired they were. Some days, the instinct to stay in a warm pile of furs trumped even the need for food or sex.

“Next week or so, after all the repairs are made,” Eskel said.

Grayson gave another rumble and leaned back against the wall, resting his head on the rim of the pool. He needed to wash his hair, but the heat was too good. No matter how many times they shot a bath with Igni, they could never get water this hot at Haern Caduch. After another few minutes, he sunk under the water and started running his hands through his hair, trying to clean it as best he could.

He surfaced again to find a cake of soap on the edge of the pool and Eskel drifting back over towards Geralt. They were closer now, Geralt's chin almost resting on top of his shoulder as they both watched Grayson. “We're done washing, you can use it,” Eskel said.

“Thank you.” Working up a lather, Grayson worked the soap into his hair and beard, the dirt and grime finally falling away. He sighed, starting to feel like himself again.

Over the scent of the mineral water, there was something else, a thick, musky scent slowly rising, enhanced by the humid air. Eskel was fully leaning against Geralt now, not wrapped together as they surely were before Grayson arrived, but definitely closer. It took Grayson a moment to realize what it was—lust. The water wasn't crystal clear, but no doubt both Wolves were hard, trying not to rub against each other... fuck it was like Ivo and Junod, as soon as they were back together, no room was safe. They were comfortable with Grayson, or Gerd, or even Arnaghad watching their slow build up before they took themselves away to abuse their bedframe, but this wasn't his keep, these weren't his brothers—as tenuous of a relationship that was—and Grayson didn't want to start the winter off by intruding.

Rinsing the soap from his hair one more time, Grayson got out of the pool. Once again, he tried to ignore the little gasp when his cock—now half hard, the traitor—swung free. There was a low growl too, a growl of pleasure (not warning, if they were anything like Bears) and he hastened to dry off and get dressed. “Thanks for the soap,” he called over his shoulder, then walked quickly out of the springs.

Up in his room, he went at his hair with the plain brush he had with him on The Path, frowning at the smooth handle. He was warm, bathed, fed, and rested, all the signals that he was _resting_ for the winter, and yet the absence of his own belongings irked something deep inside him. After the pogroms started, Haern Caduch was abandoned for a time, the school all but dissolved. They had no bonds of brotherhood keeping them within its walls, fighting for what was theirs. When he heard of a return—just a few, no new trainees, never again—Grayson was reluctant to follow... until he found that fucking silver brush in a market and knew it wasn't safe to keep it with him during the harsh year. He needed a place to store his belongings, rest his head, he hadn't had a proper hibernation in years... so he went back.

Ivo and Junod met him in the main hall, of course they returned, probably never left. They shared a deeper bond than anyone else (for obvious reasons) and regarded Grayson without judgment. “Your room's still free,” Ivo grunted before returning to their game of dice.

It wasn't much, but it was _his_ , his furs, his weapons collected over the years, everything was still in its place, showing the fanatics didn't even bother going towards the Bear keep—too much fucking snow, not worth it without any Witchers inside—and he placed the shiny new brush on the table next to his mirror. It was a good mirror too, payment for a job where the noble family was hawking everything in their estate to sell it, but the wraith in the basement was too much of a deal breaker for even the most industrious developer. Grayson came away with half his price in gold, a few silver plates to sell on, and the mirror. It was a bitch to get up the mountain without a crack, only a few scratches on the frame, but the silver still shined, a plain frame, but beautiful in its simplicity.

It sat on the table, leaning against the wall instead of hanging on a nail. Grayson liked to move it around the room from time to time, set it at the end of the bed and watch himself after he was done grooming, his hair perfect, beard trimmed and shaped, even his chest hair brushed into pleasing wisps. He stroked himself, staring into the mirror, wishing he had a partner, just for the moment, just long enough to appreciate how handsome he looked, all the effort he put into making himself presentable for whoever he invited to share his bed.

But now, all Grayson had for the season was his little hand mirror, a plain brush, and some borrowed soap. _You could be dead in a snowdrift_ , he thought to himself, _frozen, the way the mountain claimed so many others... one shit winter is manageable. You've fucking had worse_.

Done feeling sorry for himself, Grayson stood up and returned his things to his bag. The warm water relaxed him, but tired him out again. He still wasn't completely rested and another nap was in order. It was a nice guest room, the bed sturdy and comfortable, the furs weren't musty. Stripping down, he crawled under the mound of warmth and closed his eyes.

Sometime later, Grayson wasn't sure, it was dark out and his fire was almost dead, there was a knock at the door. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back into shape before grunting, “Enter.”

The door cracked open and Eskel appeared, but he stayed mostly in the hall. “Came to get you for dinner. I figured you fell asleep.”

“Mmm, yes, I'm still... not all together.”

Eskel waved his concern away, eyes tracing over Grayson's thick chest. He didn't even try to hide his gaze. “It takes us a few days too, no trouble. I'll wait and we can walk down together.” Eskel turned his back, but did not shut the door all the way. Well, the Wolves were _close_ , and after what happened in the hot springs, he supposed this was their version of privacy.

Thinking of the hot springs... “My apologies, for earlier,” Grayson rumbled as he pulled on his breeches, then hunted around for his shirt. “For interrupting you and your mate. You were kind enough to offer me space, I'll do the same for you.”

Eskel turned, half looking over his shoulder before remembering Grayson was getting dressed. Eyes on the floor, he smirked. “Mate? Uh, no, Geralt is... we're together, yes, but that's how it goes here. Lambert's with us in the winter too.”

“Hmm.” Grayson finished pulling on his boots and joined Eskel out in the hall.

Eskel turned, looking up... and up. His lips parted, and a pink tongue came out to wet them. Before now, they hadn't stood side to side, and suddenly their size difference was obvious. Almost a full head taller and thicker everywhere, Grayson looked down at Eskel, thankful his beard hid most of the blush rising on his cheeks. Those eyes were just... fuck, it looked like Eskel wanted to devour him. He shared such glances with his brethren, but they were always furtive, snuck when the other wasn't looking, there was no open staring and appreciation. At that moment, Eskel was looking up at him like he'd just seen the moon for the first time.

Grunting, Grayson pointed down the hall, towards the stairs. “Lead on.”

“No, after you.” The blush crawled higher up his face and down his neck. He was armed and the Wolf was not, he had no reason to refuse to go first...

Making their way down the hall, Grayson knew with absolute certainty that Eskel was staring at his ass. In their softer, hazier moments after a good fuck, the others mused on Grayson's finer assets. “If I didn't already have Ivo...” Junod joked, getting a thump from his mate.

They both stayed on their side of the bed, leaving Grayson to enjoy his afterglow, but there were soft brushes every once in a while, Ivo rumbling whenever he shifted, taking another quick glance at Grayson's soft belly hiding muscles of steel under a layer of warming fat, his thick thighs and well muscled ass. “Next time you're lonely,” he said. “I'm going to bite that pretty ass of yours.” Ivo was usually a man of his word and Grayson had several bruising bites on his lower half over the years.

Wolves were dainty by comparison, even Eskel (he tried not to look in the baths, but it was obvious Eskel was the thickest of them all, wider than Geralt when they were pressed together, trying not to touch each other and make Grayson uncomfortable) was small next to him. They had to be, it was necessary for all those quick moves and fancy pirouettes, Bears focused more on brute strength. Grayson wasn't used to being the biggest around, not with fucking Arnaghad walking the same halls. He hunched his shoulders, then caught himself and stood up straight. The scent of lust he caught earlier in the hot springs hit him again, somehow more intense in the close hall.

Dinner was a more raucous affair than he was used to. Yes, his school pushed and shoved, laughed at jokes and stories of their year, but it wasn't like this, where Lambert reached out to punch Geralt on the shoulder, and Geralt quickly retaliated with a head lock. Vesemir, their mentor, watched it all with a shake of his head, until Eskel lept across the table to take part in the scuffle. He openly sighed at the three of them and got up to get more wine, even as playful growls turned to snatched kisses, soft bites to an earlobe with no intent to injure.

“You'll have to excuse them,” Vesemir said, filling Grayson's mug from the new bottle. “Pack mentality, it takes over when they're all together again. The Path is hard for all Witchers in different ways, we are more sentimental than your lot.”

“Yes.” He nodded towards the puppy pile on the floor, only Lambert still pushing and shoving, trying to escape from Geralt and Eskel's arms as they held him, both noses pressed against his neck. “If we tried that, Arnaghad would throw us all off the mountain.”

After their impromptu wrestling match, they all got to their feet and finished their dinner, talking a little lower now, Geralt's hand on Eskel's knee under the table, while Lambert leaned into them both. Eskel glanced over at Grayson every once in a while, but his attention was firmly on his pack mates. _Fucking Wolves_ , Grayson thought.

As soon as they were done eating, Vesemir had to bark at them, “Dishes!” so they didn't disappear and leave the work for him. After they cleaned up, all three were up the stairs like a bolt, leaving Vesemir and Grayson alone in the cavernous hall. Hmm, something similar to his home at least.

“Normally they stay to fool around, play Gwent, something,” Vesemir said as he and Grayson cleared the rest of the table. “Lambert just woke, so they're eager to _catch up_.”

Grayson grunted. Though he enjoyed an hour or so of company after dinner, Gwent or whatever game Gerd and Ivo wanted to play, he was still tired, and headed up to bed, leaving the old Wolf to his reading in front of the fire. As he walked down the hall, a number of sounds reached his ears, moans, wet sucking noises, and full out cries of pleasure. He stopped cold and looked towards the door he was standing near, three hearts beating inside, getting a little faster as flesh slid against flesh.

“Missed you, Lamb,” someone whispered.

“Missed you all year,” another voice agreed. There was a wet, smacking kiss and a lick, another small moan... “Wanted to stay in bed with you but Vesemir said we had chores to do.”

“I'm awake now, you can show me what you dirty old men wanted from me.”

“Oh, so many things.”

Grayson rushed down the hall and into his room before he overheard anymore, thunking his head against the wood. He could still hear them, their hearts, the sound their tongues made as they licked and sucked at each other... fuck, their room was right fucking next door. He'd have to listen to that all winter. His cock seemed to think that wasn't such a bad idea, straining as it was in his breeches. He slid his hand down, cupping himself and biting back his groan. He just woke up this afternoon, and then that bath, no time to see to his other winter needs.

Stripping out of his clothes, Grayson climbed back into bed and pushed the furs down so they covered his legs, but left his cock free. The room was warm, someone had clearly come in to stoke his fire. He was usually very slow in his alone time, enjoying his body, the feel of it under his own hands, but after the day he'd had (the season, the whole fucking year) he wanted it fast and hard, then he wanted to sleep. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he pinched one nipple with his other hand and groaned, squeezing in all his favorite spots. While nothing beat a lover, not even a new one, there was something to knowing one's own body, knowing the pleasure he desired and delivering exactly what he needed. He threw his head back into the pillows and stroked faster, pinching harder before moving to the other nipple.

He didn't look in the hot springs, but he was definitely interested in what some of the Wolves might have between their legs. Lambert looked the shortest, but walked with a swagger of a man twice his size, probably a large set of balls on that one. Grayson imagined what Eskel and Geralt might do to those balls, licking and sucking them, cooing over how beautiful their young wolf was... And Eskel, fuck, his wide chest made Grayson _wonder_. As the biggest Wolf, was he big all over? Would Grayson be able to wrap his lips around the fat head and suck? And what of Geralt? Did that white hair extend everywhere? Fuck, he wanted to find out.

Snapping his hips up one last time, Grayson spilled across his hand, grunting softly. The noises from the other room also died down, so clearly they'd... finished. Grayson cleaned up and got back into bed, falling asleep. A winter listening to tender sex was better than nothing. However, Grayson didn't know that, while he was listening to the Wolves catch up after a long year apart, they were listening to him and making plans.

* * *

Chores around the keep weren't difficult, didn't tax his strength at all, but Vesemir did say he was on lighter duty, he wasn't about to complain. Hauling the cart of fire wood through the courtyard, Grayson spied all three Wolves up on the scaffolding, repairing cracked mortar and rebuilding weak sections of wall. His own keep was abandoned, untouched by would be invaders, but it seemed Kaer Morhen almost fell completely, and yet the Wolves stayed, putting it back together, brick by brick.

The three had such easy camaraderie, nudging and laughing, teasing before rubbing their shoulders together. Both Eskel and Lambert reached down at the same time and grabbed a handful of Geralt's backside, making him yelp. Grayson tore his eyes away and continued through the courtyard, trying not to imagine what that ass felt like.

The reward at the end of a long day was always a dip in the hot springs, which Grayson looked forward to more and more after training started and he realized just how much younger than him the Wolves were. Their jumps, quick turns, and pirouettes were dizzying, but his brute strength won an even number of bouts. Again, he'd watch them brush against each other, laughing, stealing kisses, rubbing their noses together. Once after training, he caught a glimpse of Lambert squished between Geralt and Eskel, all three with blissful smiles on their faces. Grayson adjusted his cock and darted off to the hot springs. With any luck, he could finish scrubbing before they invaded and started splashing around, making Grayson's eyes want to wander...

He heard them in their room every night. Or maybe it was just Geralt's room they congregated in, he wasn't sure, he'd definitely seen Lambert coming from another bedroom dressed in fresh clothes, so did they all fuck in one room and sleep in another? They seemed to sleep together as well, which sounded claustrophobic... yet in a nice way. Grayson sorely missed the quiet nights in front of the fire with Ivo across Junod's chest, both of them dozing near enough for Grayson to touch if he wanted. Gerd was curt, yet a little jolly by Bear standards, he would flop down on top of Grayson when he pleased, rut a little, then roll away when they were both done, searching for the next mug of ale or game of Gwent to satisfy other needs. But there was always a small smile, some sign of affection they never admitted to having for each other. To see the Wolves piled together almost made Grayson want them to move a little closer.

He was under the water fighting with his hair (it was too long, he would've trimmed it as soon as he got home for winter, but he didn't have any of his usual hair care items here) when he heard the door open and three sets of boots scrape in. Surfacing again, he frowned a little. He just got into the water, hadn't even soaped up yet, and already they were stripping, jumping in and splashing around at the other end of the pool, the playful growling and licking starting as soon as they were rinsed.

He grunted and swam over to the side. “I'll leave you be.”

“Grayson, you don't have to leave,” Eskel said. “The pool is big enough for all of us. Stay.” It was always Eskel. This happened almost every day, they'd come down to enjoy the most comfortable part of their home and Grayson offered to give them their privacy, returning to his room to furiously fuck his fist thinking about the three Wolves probably fucking in the pool, all wet and glistening, hard muscles and soft winter fat moving deliciously...

Every day, Grayson gave them their peace, they extended the same offer to him, he was good enough to allow them their time too. Today... he decided to stay. He didn't know why, something in Eskel's voice, or the cloud of musky sex that filled the whole cavern (filled the whole keep, more like, damn virile Wolves) but he sunk back down into the water and continued washing his hair, trying not to watch the show going on at the other end of the pool.

Lambert was spread across Geralt's lap, licking up his neck and nuzzling their noses together. While Lambert seemed standoffish at first, he soon started laughing and joking, sharing his “good” moonshine with their guest. “I'm just cranky the first few days when I get home,” he admitted one night. “The Path fucking sucks, it's hard for me to remember I don't have to take it with me.”

“Wise words,” Grayson grunted, knocking their mugs together.

Though it did happen far too early in the morning for his liking, he enjoyed training with the Wolves, liked watching their fancy turns and jumps, trying to outsmart them. Eskel was a joy to spar with, he looked too big to leap around, and yet every time he did, it took Grayson's breath away. He would've made a fine Bear, graceful, yet capable of brute strength when needed.

Lambert and Geralt were very caught up with each other, but Eskel's eyes were on him. He kissed the back of Lambert's shoulder before swimming closer to Grayson. “If you need a trim on your hair, I can help. I do Geralt's every year.”

Grayson's hand twitched towards his hair before he caught himself. “I can manage, my supplies are back at Haern Caduch. Obviously I expected to make it back there.”

Eskel rolled his eyes and got out of the pool, thick, half-hard cock swinging free just long enough for Grayson to get a good eyeful. “It'll be way too long when you get down the mountain, you'll have to pull it back like the White Wolf over there,” Geralt huffed, but didn't return the jibe, too busy kissing Lambert, “it's no trouble. Promise I won't butcher it.”

With a grunt, Grayson heaved himself out of the pool. Eskel did not hide his gaze as it raked over the Bear's body before grabbing a towel for himself and wrapping it around his hips. Grayson grabbed a towel as well and sat down on the bench near the door, eyes following Eskel as he opened the small chest and removed a pair of scissors, dainty things, the kind a proper barber would have.

Eskel threw another towel over Grayson's shoulders to catch the hair, one hand lingering, squeezing softly. “Relax, been doin' this for a long time.”

The warm hand on his shoulder made him want to sigh in pleasure... Grayson grit his teeth instead, holding the noise back. He nodded. “I like it long enough to sweep back, short on the sides. I don't have any wax though.” Coin was scarce enough this year to mean no prostitutes, so no wax either. Weeks before winter, Grayson's hair fell in his eyes, he was loathe to cut it back though, running his fingers through it was a small joy he had out in the harsh world.

“Lambert has some,” Eskel said. “We'll take care of you.”

Grayson always took his brush and his mirror down with him and Eskel found them, stroking through his hair with fingers and the brush. The warmth of another tending to him, the pleasing tingles across his scalp as skilled fingers touched and stroked... “Uh, mmm...” Grayson couldn't contain _that_ noise and bit down on his lip, trying to hold back any others. He squeezed his legs closed, trying to hide his ample cock reacting to Eskel—his smell, his touch, his warmth, just... everything—but he feared it was too late.

There was a soft, rumbling chuckle from behind him, and Lambert and Geralt were watching him as well, three sets of lustful eyes focused on Grayson as Eskel's sure fingers made him melt. “We can take care of _that_ later, after I finish with your hair. But only if you want.”

Fingers stroked a little longer, sending shots of tingling fire down his neck and shoulders. His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back. “Yes,” Grayson finally hissed out. He widened his legs, letting his cock push up against the towel, showing the Wolves exactly what they were getting themselves into. He heard someone lick their lips. “Yes, I think... I think I'd like that.”

“We wanted to give you space, but we've seen you looking. Might've seen us looking too,” Eskel whispered. Done petting through the thick, mostly gray locks, he picked up the scissors and started snipping. At this point, Grayson didn't care if his hair ended up mangled, it would grow back, as long as those wide hands kept touching him... fuck, he didn't realize how long it had been since anyone just _touched_ him. Listening to the Wolves at night as they kissed and fucked and loved gave him more urges than usual, and it looked like those urges were about to be satisfied.

The soft kissing noises from the two in the water stopped a while ago and Grayson knew they were all watching him. After a few moments—could've been hours, he lost track of time as those wonderful hands continued to touch him—he heard a whisper. “Dibs on riding him first,” Lambert said.

There was a splash and a soft growl, he could only guess what sort of playful punishment that comment earned Lambert. “How about we let Grayson decide?” Geralt scolded.

“I can... I can take two in a night.” Fuck, was he actually doing this? Weeks of soft eyes, flirting glances, he thought it was just their excess sexual energy spilling out in all directions (every night, they fucked, every damn night, and sometimes in the afternoon, it sounded exhausting) but had they been planning this? How exactly to draw their guest into their bed? Grayson usually stayed away from such obvious traps, but this might be one he wanted to fall into, even if it meant a sleepless night or two as they sated themselves on him. Mmm, wasn't that a thought?

“Hmm, I've heard tell Bears are insatiable,” Geralt said.

“Really? Where do you hear such things, White Wolf?”

“Bear I crossed paths with, looked like he wanted to fuck me right there in the middle of the street. Though you lot were averse to the company of other Witchers? Even your brothers.”

“Exaggeration. Mostly.” Grayson didn't continue, he was too distracted by Eskel's hands on him, and he wasn't about to spill his school's secrets... no matter how good Eskel's touch felt. “Cultivated reputation, you might say. And yes, I do have... quite an appetite. For humans. Other Witchers are... exhausting.” With a human, he could perform all night, wringing orgasm after orgasm from a beautiful woman or man as he built to his first peak. Another Witcher could match stroke for stroke, keeping them both scrambling for that first climax for far too long. Not to mention the slower pace he was used to during winter, sleep already pulling at him though it was only shortly after mid day... Fuck, what was Grayson getting himself into? Allowing three Wolves to jump on him? They'd probably give him a heart attack, but what a way to go.

Eskel chuckled from behind him. “We'll be gentle, promise.”

Though they clearly had plans for later, Eskel finished the hair cut before starting on Grayson's beard, “Too handsome to be hidden under all that,” he whispered. He didn't know if the Wolves knew how much effort he put into his appearance, how he prided being clean and presentable, it was easier to entice humans like that, and he'd never felt... he'd never noticed other Witchers, not outside his school. Those were all couplings of convenience, that's what they told themselves every year, but maybe there was more to sharing a bed with someone who knew the reasons for your scars and had some of their own.

Tender fingers stroked over the two scars cutting through Grayson's brow, extra careful around the one at his temple, all three from a swipe from an actual fucking bear of all things when Grayson was searching for shelter and found the cave already occupied. He was gentle with all Grayson's scars, of course, the teeth marks on his bicep from a werewolf, the ragged X on his shoulder from a harpy claw, more teeth and claws raking down his back, down his sides, knives and nicks from other blades dotting here and there, nothing they hadn't seen before, nothing they hadn't touched on themselves or each other.

Grayson didn't even notice they were done until Eskel's lips brushed against his shoulder, over one of his scars. “There you are, all done. Rinse off, then we can go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Grayson let himself be urged from the bench, his towel pulled away. He sank into the hot water with Eskel still so close, fingers dancing over his shoulders, rinsing the rest of the hair clippings away. When Eskel stayed close, Grayson wrapped an arm around his hips, their lips almost touching...

Eskel closed the distance, his scarred lips still so soft and warm against Grayson's. He opened his mouth, begging for more, and Eskel gave him more, one hand across broad shoulders, the other between Grayson's legs, lightly stroking his thigh. The water around them rippled and two bodies moved closer. Only when he was through exploring Eskel's mouth did Grayson open his eyes to find himself surrounded, Geralt and Lambert boxing him in, eyelids heavy with lust.

Oh, these fucking Wolves, pack hunters through and through. Grayson thought about the last few weeks, the way they'd linger close, but still far enough to give him space, one coming over to speak with him for a moment before leaving him in peace... leaving a bit of their shared pack scent behind. They were penning him in, very slowly, and planned to eat him alive in the best way possible.

With both his arms wrapped around Eskel's hips, he wished he had another hand for Lambert and Geralt each. They seemed not to mind, happy to rub up close, Geralt drifting behind Eskel while Lambert ran his nose along Grayson's neck. The youngest, prickliest Wolf was the most open in his staring, he didn't even try to keep it a secret; Grayson should've suspected this was their plan all along.

Eskel's lips glided over his jaw, nibbling a little before finding his ear, whispering, “Upstairs? The pack bed is more than big enough to fit you.”

Though he wanted to stay in the warm water with equally wet skin pressed against his, Grayson nodded. “Upstairs.”

They all got out, drying as quickly and efficiently as possible, and the staring didn't stop. A low growl rumbled from Lambert's chest. “Only two, you say? Damn shame...”

Hands never stopped touching him as they nearly sprinted through the halls, a hand on his ass, his back, brushing over his stomach... it was already overwhelming and they weren't even in bed yet. Grayson tried to snatch a kiss only to have the dainty little Wolves jump out of his reach, come hither eyes leading him onward. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, Grayson had all of two seconds to examine what they called the _pack bed_ , a mammoth mattress that would easily fit Arnaghad's broad frame and another Bear besides. Geralt and Lambert fell onto the mattress, already pulling at each other's clothes. There was more playful growling, and Geralt sucked a bruise into Lambert's neck, making the youngest Wolf moan.

Grayson jumped a little when hands brushed his shoulders, and he turned to find Eskel already naked, his sights now set on Grayson's clothes as well. “All good?” he asked.

“Yes.” Grayson let himself be undressed, it had been... a while, since a partner had done that. Most prostitutes left him to get ready on his own, spreading themselves out on the bed and waiting (sometimes anxiety tinging their scent, sometimes excitement) and Gerd usually didn't have the patience for his own clothes, leaving his smalls around his ankle and bending over, grunting for Grayson to _hurry up and fuck me_.

Eskel's hands were slow, patient as he untucked Grayson's shirt, letting the material fall before smoothing his hands down his chest. “Fuck, not often I'm considered small...” he mused.

“Bears,” Geralt called from the bed, hands holding tight to Lambert as they kissed, warming the sheets. “Big all over.”

“As we've seen.” Eskel went to open Grayson's belt before remembering the knife he kept at his back, more out of habit than actual worry, if he learned one thing this winter, it's that the Wolves would rather beat him at cards than actually beat him. “We don't usually go in for knives in bed, but if it makes you more comfortable...”

“No.” Grayson finished unbuckling his belt, gripping the scabbard for a moment before setting it on the small table by the door next to the wash basin. “It's, it's fine, we can...”

Eskel silenced him with a kiss, pulling at the rest of his clothes. They had to part to get his shirt over his head, and Eskel took a moment to admire Grayson's chest. “Never gonna get enough of these tits.” He then buried his face between said tits, pulling another surprised gasp from Grayson.

“Mmm, mind bringing them over here?” Lambert mumbled around Geralt's tongue. All they'd done was kiss so far, both of them hard and leaking, waiting for the others to join.

Eskel took another moment to lick and suck at Grayson's nipples, sinking his teeth into thick muscle and squishy fat with equal gusto. “It's just nice that I won't be the only one with them sucking on me.”

“You love it,” Geralt called.

Grayson blinked and the next thing he knew, his boots and breeches were gone, smalls in Eskel's hand. With a coyly arched eyebrow, he threw them over his shoulder to join the large pile of clothing by the door. “Won't need these.” He twined their fingers together and pulled Grayson over to the bed. “Make room, he needs the space.”

Instead of splitting up, one on each side, Geralt pulled Lambert tighter into his chest and rolled them both away, keen eyes watching Grayson as he sat. “Get comfortable,” Eskel said, pushing him back onto the pillows. As soon as his back hit the sheets, warm and comfortable from Geralt and Lambert's body heat, Eskel wasted no time climbing on, their cocks brushing together. “Fuck, you're big. Can't wait to ride you,” Eskel moaned out.

Floundering slightly, Grayson blushed when Eskel took his hands and placed them on his hips. “Sorry, I haven't... it's been a while.” The Wolves were forward, but in a different way that his brethren. When Gerd wanted attention, he simply nodded towards his room and assumed Grayson would follow; when Ivo and Junod wanted an audience, they shouted through the halls, _Grayson, get your fucking ass up here!_ There was no gentle leading, no soft undressing, just the assumption of sex, which was fine, but not... fuck, it wasn't as soft as this. Grayson couldn't remember the last time sex was _soft_. He quite liked the idea.

With Eskel on top of him, Grayson automatically reached for his cock, wrapping a hand around him. Eskel threw his head back and moaned. “Yeah, fuck, love those big hands. But what do you want? Not that I don't want to climb onto that monster of yours.”

“Whatever you like,” he whispered. Precome welled at the tip of the fat head and Grayson enjoyed wiping it away, only to watch another clear bead replace it.

“What do _you_ like?” Geralt asked. He and Lambert were done kissing, both watching Grayson and Eskel with hungry eyes. “Want Eskel to ride you? He's good at it.”

“Yes.” Grayson hated the breathlessness in his voice, but it only seemed to make the Wolves more ravenous. Kissing Lambert one last time, Geralt straddled Grayson's legs, pushing up right behind Eskel and biting down on his shoulder before reaching under the blankets and coming back with a tin of salve.

The sucking sound of the lid was deliciously filthy, but couldn't hold a candle to Eskel's moan when Geralt's fingers breached him. Grayson sucked in a sharp inhale and Geralt smirked. “Yeah, I'll get him ready for you. I know what his ass likes.”

Once Eskel had three thick fingers inside him, he grunted, “I'm good, let me have him.”

That same slick hand stroked up Grayson's cock, preparing him as well, such service. The same hand gripped him, lining him up with Eskel's hole. “Have at him.” Geralt curled his arm around Eskel's middle and dropped his chin onto his shoulder, looking down at Grayson. He'd had an audience before, but never one sitting _on_ his chest... he didn't hate it. Taking hold of Eskel's hips, his fingers brushed Geralt's arm as he started the first, slow thrust.

Eskel's hole was a dream, as it squeezed around the head of his cock, Grayson almost couldn't breathe. While he longed to just thrust up, fuck hard and fast into the lovely body, he wasn't usually like that; Grayson was tender when he made love, the others teased him about it but fuck, he knew he was good at it, it's what kept Ivo and Junod inviting him year after year, they knew he'd take care of their beloved partner. And now he'd take care of the Wolves.

It took an achingly long moment to bottom out, Eskel panting and grunting with every new inch inside of him. When his hips finally brushed Eskel's plush ass, he cried out, almost melting. If it weren't for Geralt behind him, holding him up, Eskel would be in a puddle across Grayson's chest.

“Fuck,” Lambert whispered. Grayson didn't even notice him so close, almost brushing his arm. “Fuck, Gray, me next.”

“If he—fuck!” Eskel moaned. “If he wants.”

“Mmm, I think I do.” He pumped his hips slowly. On his back wasn't too taxing, and two sets of golden Wolf eyes looking down at him like they wanted to devour him definitely lit a fire in Grayson's belly. Geralt dropped a hand down and took over stroking Eskel's cock, allowing him to watch them come apart above him.

Geralt mouthed at Eskel's neck. “He's so big. You like it? Think you could take me and him together? I know you love me and Lambert inside you at the same time.”

Fuck, were they insane? Two at the same time? Grayson had heard of such things, but... “Uh, shit,” Eskel moaned. “Don't think you'd both fit. Fuck, it's like when you had your fist inside me... so full.”

Yes, _definitely_ insane. But oh, that gave Grayson ideas, after he was done for the night, watching them get creative, well stretched from his cock, Geralt and Lambert around Eskel, pushed inside him together. Grayson's balls twitched, drawing up tight. “Shit, I'm close... the things you three do. Fuck, how's an old man supposed to keep up?”

“Not too old for us,” Geralt said. His hand continued the steady rhythm around Eskel's cock, stroking like he'd probably done a thousand times. There was something to be said for knowing your lover's body as well as you knew your own, and the way Eskel panted, hole fluttering around Grayson's cock, threatening to pull him over, was the kind of thing borne of a deep bond. Grayson had never had such a bond with a lover, but maybe, after this winter, the Wolves would be a little closer, not family, but more like... friends.

“Geralt!” Eskel hissed, his chest heaving. “Gray! Uh...” The rest of his words dissolved into nonsense moans as his cock twitched, spurting over Grayson's stomach, his spend sticking in his chest hair. The thick smell of _satisfied_ Wolf filled the room and Grayson growled through his own orgasm, the last few spurts of Eskel's pulling him over.

Grayson opened his eyes. He wasn't aware that he closed them. His hands were holding so tight to Eskel's hips, there were dents in his flesh. He uncurled his fingers and frowned at ten perfect fingertip bruises left behind. “I'm sorry, I was too rough.”

“Don't be...” Eskel's eyes were hazy, words slurred. He was completely leaning back on Geralt's chest, Grayson's cock still hard inside him as the last few shocks of pleasure twitched through his body.

He started to lean and Geralt caught him, pulling him up and off to the side of the bed where Lambert waited, arms open. The young Wolf had one hand on his back, the other drifting down to his ass to pull his cheeks apart. Lambert held his breath as he watched, entranced at the way Grayson's come leaked from Eskel's hole, still working to close after taking such a cock. He ran his finger through the sticky fluid before shivering as he watched two fingers slide into Eskel with almost no resistance. “Geralt,” Lambert whispered. “Take him, please. It's my turn.”

As soon as Eskel was out of his arms, Lambert scrambled onto Grayson's chest, caring not a whit for the sticky puddle on his stomach. He sucked Grayson's bottom lip between his, lightly biting. “Want that cock to ruin me, old Bear. Think you're up to it?”

Grayson chuckled, but reached for the tin of salve. His cock wasn't quite ready yet, it still needed a bit of convincing, but his fingers in Lambert's tight hole would go a long way. “High praise for the Witcher who wanted to leave me in a snow bank at the beginning of winter.”

“Mmm, I'm a creature of many moods, ask them, they'll tell you the same. How do you want me?” Before Grayson could answer, Lambert turned around, kneeling, presenting his ass for slick fingers, resting his head on Grayson's legs. “Please.”

“Better get to it,” Geralt said. He had a blissfully dozy Eskel held close to his chest, fingers carding through sweaty hair and sniffing him, probably examining the Bear's scent and deciding if he liked it or not; judging by the raging hard on he was doing nothing to hide, Geralt liked it quite a lot. “He's never this polite, only in bed when he really wants something. And now he wants you.”

Grayson got to it, pressing one, two, then finally three fingers into Lambert, the pup shaking, the muscles of his legs trembling with every brush over his prostate. Grayson may have taken a little longer than strictly necessary, he enjoyed the tight heat around his fingers, cock jerking at the idea of having it around him as well. Holding tight to Lambert's hips, he rolled them over, spooning up behind him. Geralt did the same with Eskel, who'd woken up a little, eyes still heavy. He licked over Lambert's face as Grayson started the first slow push inside.

“Ah, yeah, give it to me, Papa Bear,” he growled.

Grayson huffed a quiet laugh, pulling out a little before starting to thrust again just to hear Lambert's soft groans. “Papa Bear? Think I like that.”

“Oh, I'll call you anything you want, Papa Bear... Ah, fuck, so good.” Lambert threw his head back into the crook of Grayson's neck, his body turning loose and relaxed as he thrust lazily. Grayson had two goes a night in winter, but he was already starting to tire, hips a little sore from fucking into Eskel.

None of them seemed to mind the lazy pace, kissing, rubbing their noses together, enjoying themselves immensely. Eskel growled when Geralt slipped inside him, and now they were all wrapped together, Geralt and Grayson holding Lambert and Eskel between them. Smacking sounds met his ears and Grayson propped himself up, one hand on Lambert's hips to thrust, the other under his head to look down. Eskel licked into Lambert's mouth, sucking on his lips before opening his mouth and letting the younger Wolf invade.

Their lips locked together, Lambert's tight hole around him, Geralt pumping away at Eskel, it was too much. Grayson bit down on Lambert's shoulder and came, hips snapping hard before all energy left him and he slumped. He wanted to curl around Lambert, hold him close for a quick cuddle, but he didn't know if the Wolves liked that... As if reading his mind, Lambert grabbed for Grayson's arm and wrapped it around his chest, pushing his hips back to enjoy the cock still inside him.

“Better have filled me up like you did Eskel. Gods, I'll be dripping for days. I love it.”

Lambert was indeed dripping. With Grayson half asleep against the pillows, Geralt and Lambert lay on top of his chest, Geralt thumbing open Lambert's hole to watch the mess trickle out. “You do good work, Gray, you definitely do good work.” Grayson's eyes went wide as Geralt dipped down, licking Lambert's hole, almost drinking down the spend he found there.

Though his cock gave a valiant twitch, he was truly done for the day. Leaning back deeper into the pillows, Lambert and Geralt continued to writhe on top of him, his wide chest giving them more than enough room.

Lambert was hard again, rutting against Grayson's thigh as Geralt's tongue worked him open, fingers massaging his prostate. A few minutes later, he came again, come splashing all over Grayson's belly, joining Eskel's mess from earlier. Petting through Lambert's sweaty hair, Grayson sighed. “You three are going to kill me.”

They invited him to stay, and he did, cuddling with them until Vesemir shouted for dinner. They all trooped downstairs, and as soon as Vesemir got a whiff of them, he shook his head. “Don't think his kin with come to avenge if you three fuck him to death, but be careful.”

There were some grunts, and Grayson ducked his head to hide his blush, but no one said any more about it. That night after dinner, they played cards before letting Grayson retire alone to his room, giving him time to recharge. It was time he definitely needed, as there was a soft knock at his door shortly before midnight. Lambert crept in, stopping at the edge of his bed. “Geralt and Eskel like being alone some nights. Can I keep you warm? I don't like sleeping in my own bed without company.”

Lifting the covers, Grayson let him shove in, burrowing into his chest, face slotting between his tits. He hadn't shared a bed like this in so very long, it wasn't the most comfortable, afraid that he'd roll over and crush the much smaller Witcher, but he was rewarded in the morning with an enthusiastic blow job, and an invite to spar during training.

Winter was exhausting, but Grayson never found himself tiring of it. The Wolves' company was... a little much, at times, but they were more than happy to pile together on the opposite side of the hall, waiting for him to be ready to join them. They enjoyed using him as a bed, especially Eskel, with his wider frame, he liked being small and precious for once. They all managed to squeeze between Grayson's spread legs one night and he watched, eyes wide, as Lambert and Geralt pushed into Eskel's hole together, two thick cocks filling him up, rendering the Wolf speechless. Grayson thought he was spent for the night, but that vision alone made his cock jump up for another round. Once Eskel was taken care of, fucked to oblivion and back, Lambert and Geralt wrestled to see who got to wrap their lips around Grayson's cock.

Grayson enjoyed their gifts as well that winter, his lips closing around the head of Geralt's cock while he stroked Eskel with his free hand, Lambert dozing on the other side of the bed. Though Lambert declared Grayson's cock “too good not to ride,” Eskel was more than happy to accept Grayson's ass when he got up on his knees and told them to have at him.

It started with soft fingers, slow licks up his balls, laving the entire area in spit before they got out the salve and gently worked him open. Grayson could've sworn he felt Geralt's tongue next to Eskel's fingers, but got too distracted to ask when Lambert—cheeky fuck—wiggled under his hips and sucked his cock into his mouth.

They were insatiable, and Grayson was a little too tired to keep up. They didn't hold it against him. Sometimes down in the hot springs, Eskel massaged his head and styled his hair while Geralt and Lambert fucked in the pool, both of them watching Grayson get pampered by Eskel's patient hands. But Grayson's favorite nights were the ones where they all fell asleep on top of him. Geralt with his arms around Eskel, their noses pressed together as they snored quietly, both of them on one side of his chest, then Lambert on the other, his lips at Grayson's neck, tongue licking in his dreams. He still enjoyed his solitude, they didn't impose their presence every moment of every day, but when they were asleep, he could be alone... yet together with them at the same time.

Grayson missed his silver brush, and his beautiful mirror, he missed trimming his hair, grooming himself to perfection, then hearing Ivo lick his lips, nudging Junod and whispering, _Later_ , under his breath. He missed his room that smelled like him, the fur of the first bear he killed on his own, a rite of passage in his school as much as any of the Trials. He missed his own halls where he knew every loose stone...

But wintering with the Wolves wasn't bad either.


End file.
